


Every tear’s a waterfall, every scar’s a vile reminder

by Sterek_stale



Category: Sterek - Fandom
Genre: Alcoholic Sheriff Stilinski, Angst with a Happy Ending, Depressed Stiles, Doctor Derek, F/M, Love at First Sight, M/M, My First AO3 Post, Past Rape/Non-con, Self Consciousness, Self-Harm, Senior stiles stilinksi, Slow Build Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Stiles is bullied, Stiles is lonely, Suicide Attempt, sheriff stilinski is a knob, slight eating disorder, sterek
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-10
Updated: 2019-08-09
Packaged: 2019-08-21 16:04:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16579748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sterek_stale/pseuds/Sterek_stale
Summary: Stiles:18 years of age filled with a lifetime of pain and sorrow. Starting at a mere 7 years old when his mother had died from a monstrous, unforgiving disease that had ripped her from him and his father then slowly sucked the life from her, draining her energy and time left on the earth. It was just a nasty, violent downward spiral from there as his life was torn apart piece by piece. His father becoming a cruel, vicious alcoholic and he was slowly being deserted by everyone and everything. One day when everything becomes too much, stiles tries to end it all but when he comes too in the hospital bracketed by two muscular arms and beautiful, endless green eyes, he’s not sure whether to be enraged or delighted.Introducing Derek. The 22 year old fresh and sharp featured Adonis of a man with beautiful eyes and a permanent scowl. Having many demons of his own, he understands stiles and cannot seem to get that milky pale skin dotted with moles and brown, lifeless eyes from his mind.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story WILL contain a lot of MATURE CONTENT. There will be a lot of scenes with a graphic depiction of violence as stiles is very very messed up with a lot of problems. Otherwise, read at your own risk and ENJOY. It is not for the light hearted but I plan to make it up with lots of love and fluff later on :). ALSO I’m british and having a go at writing in the American culture such as stiles at high school and all that so IM REALLY SORRY if I get something wrong, which I guarantee will happen but I will try my best to be correct.

Chapter 1: 

 

He heard the crack before he felt it. It echoed between his ears as a sharp pain erupted at the crook of his nose. Only then did he feel a warm thick liquid trickle over and into his partially seperated lips and cascade down his chin, falling to the ground creating a wicked red trail as he stumbled back towards the lockers. It was such a powerful blow that he thinks he temporarily blacked out, although he could never be sure, as when he opened his eyes he saw his attackers retreating to the cafeteria; both of them laughing and smiling as if they were proud. They probably were. 

Hauling his abused body to its feet, he leaned against the now dented lockers, depending on them to keep him stable until he felt safe enough to stand by himself. Jackson had appeared from no-where with his little bum buddy matt. Both of them had treated him like shit since middle school and it was nothing new but only recently had it started to get violent: only since the beginning of senior year.

Rolling his shoulders out and circling his neck, he let out a shaky breath and started towards the exit of the school. Escaping through the emergency exit door he took long, purposeful strides towards his jeep. His oh so beautiful jeep that he cherished dearly. 

Ditching had become a regular for him. Making his attendance drop from the high nineties to the low eightys and the school was on his case immediately. They called home to talk to his father though they never got far as he was either too drunk or too out of it to answer and on the rare occasion they would ring to tell him his son had ditched (yet again) and he would answer he didn’t listen. It had become painfully clear he didn’t care. Eventually the school had just stopped calling. 

Jumping into his jeep, his one safe space, he retrieved the half empty box of tissues from his glove box and wiped down his still bloody nose.  
Wiping it away he let the floodgates open. Tears flew freely down his pale cheeks and dropped from his chin, mixing with the coagulated blood and creating a disgusting mess on the lower half of his face. This was also a regular occurrence. He had cried so many times just in this school year it was now just natural. He hated it. He absolutey despised it. He never allowed himself in front of other people. He seemed weak enough as it is and he didn’t need some petty emotions to finally do him over. 

Starting his jeep, he drove away from the school and towards his only other safe space. As cliche as it sounds, that safe space was the local hill top where you could see over the entirety of beacon hills. It was always empty, not a soul to be seen and it was beautiful, and better yet no one could find him, not that anyone would ever bother looking for him in the first place. 

He took off down the road towards the local hill top and drove much faster that the law abiding citizen should but who would be there to catch him? His pissed father that would take him home and do ungodly things to him. Yeah he would be fine. 

A throbbing pain in his face brought him out of his dazed thoughts as he realised he probably had a broken nose. The pain had spread, seeping to his brain and jaw and he thrived on it. It let him know he was alive and the constant deathly feeling bleeding from his heart could be stopped. Even for the shortest of periods and stiles lived for those moments. Pulling into the car park at the top of the hill, he sighed out in relief and retrieved a few items from his car to take with him. He grabbed his phone, headphones a book and one of his most recent friends: his blade kept in a silky black bag. He stuffed the blade and phone into his back pockets and carried the rest, taking a seat on the very edge as the nightlife below roared. 

Yanking out his phone, he plugged his headphones in and started listening to his music whilst opening to the page of his bookmark. He didn’t have many chances to get a chance to relax and feel as free as this so he appreciated the rare opportunities he got. 

 

After nearly 2 and a half hours of reading the sun had begun to set and his mind had started to tire. Realising he had made good progress of his book, he replaced the book mark and placed it besides him on the fresh grass, breathing in deeply.

Reaching to his back pocket, he pulled out the silky black bag and a smile made its way to his face as it always did when he was about to do this. Opening it and emptying the contents of it into his hand, he picked out his favourite out of the few, it was the biggest, sharpest and shiniest of the bunch, he got to work. 

~~~~~~~~~~~trigger warning~~~~~~~~

He took the blade to the pale skin of his scarred forearm and sliced away, cutting at the skin as tears made their was down his cheeks yet again.  
He was unsure about whether they were tears of happiness or sadness, maybe an amazing mixture of the two, but it felt great and he laughed through his sobs. Each cut got deeper and deeper as he got more confident and he had blood running in rivers from his arms to his hands. It looked like something out of a horror movie. Like he was some maniac with only a quarter of a functioning brain. He wasn’t. That was one thing he could be sure of. He knew very well what he was doing and what the results would be. He would be left with more nasty, raised scars that would be a reminder for the rest of his life, however long that may be. 

He continued to work on his arm, hissing in pain and delight then moving onto the other arm when the first became filled. 

When he finished he was almost on the point of passing out from blood loss. The previous green grass and ragged clothes he was wearing was now blanketed in a thick coat of crimson blood along with his forearms and he felt euphoric and sickened by his own self destruction. Making his easy back to his car after collecting his stuff, he felt less heavy hearted than when he had arrived. He WAS NOT crazy. He wasn’t. He just wanted an escape.

Wiping the blood away with the wipes from before, he rested back in his seat as he wrapped the gause around both arms with alarming skill and finesse then bandages them, pulling down both sleeves to hide them. All evidence had been wiped away and hidden. It was his own dirty little secret and he loved the risk of that.  
Starting the car and making his way towards his house, he turned on the radio. Feeling the sting of his arms and the amazing feeling of freedom, he bopped his head to the best and sung along. He pulled into his drive way a few hours later and noticed his dads police cruiser in the garage. Swearing under his breath, he stopped the car and exited. He grabbed his belongings and opened the door as quietly as possible. He stopped at the bottom of the stairs and listened. Utter scilence. He slowly tip toed into the living room to see his father passed out on the sofa, sprawled across it with a spilt glass of scotch resting against his chest. 

Sighing in deep relief, he collected some of the glass bottles on the coffee table and made his way to the kitchen, dumpin gthe bottles in the recycling on the way.  
Grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge he decided he could miss a meal, he could do to lose a few pounds anyways. 

He left his father on the sofa and made his way into his bedroom, locking the door behind him.

Getting changed into some comfier clothes, he stared down at his thighs, at the terrifying scars that lay there, st the extra skin he wished he didn’t have, at the sickly pallor of his skin. It was times like this when he was most dangerous to himself; when he was all alone. He could wallow in his thoughts and self pity and think about all the things that were wrong with him. 

He lied down in his bed, ready for another restless night of nightmares that plagued his memories and dreams. He began to wonder what Scott would be doing right in that moment, would he be sat in his bed thinking too, would he be at Allison’s having the time of his life, would he be out with his new friends seeing as it was Friday night. He didn’t know and he wouldn’t know but he couldn’t help himself as jealousy took over. 

At the beginning of the school year school had been hostile and distant from him but they stilll talked but as the year had progressed Scott had become more distant to the point where they hadn’t talked in weeks. Stiles had gone to question him about it and Scott had shouted at him, calling him horrible names such as useless, fat, a waste of breath, a waste of his time, a wasted life and his friends had sat and watched, chucking into their hands and snickering to eachother. He had been so hurt and embarrassed and scared as Scott’s rage had grown during his speech in which the whole cafeteria had heard. He’d raced out of the doors and that’s when he’d first skipped school. He hadn’t gone back to school for the rest of the week, to embarrassed and hurt to show his face.

What stiles found the strangest though was that before junior year had finished him and Scott has still been great. They sat together every day and were still their mischievous selves even when Allison and Scott had gotten together and over summer break they’d both been massively busy and hadn’t seen eachother much but when they did they were still friendly but as soon as the school year started again it was like a switch had been flicked. Like something had drastically changed. Which stiles later found out to be true when he was subjected to Scott’s hate and the rest of the schools laughter. He hated Scott for it. He despised him. 

Now he went for school for the lessons but left for lunch or went and sat in the toilet cubicles, never once eating anything as he knew he wouldnt be able to keep it down. 

He’d been alone ever since. His dad had started drinking long before that so he was truely alone. All he wanted was someone to talk to but even that seemed like asking for too much. It was now 6 months on and it had been the same hate and bullying the whole time. 

He thinks that had been the start of the self hated he constantly felt but in reality he knew that had been brewing within him for so much longer than that and Scott just helped start it. A small fragment in a large sea of Demons. 

Shutting off his lamp besides his bed, he curled his arms around himself and hoped he could get at least an 2 hours sleep tonight.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles has an encounter with his father

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More graphic violence in this guys, more trigger warnings too.

The next day, when stiles woke it was to his father slamming the door shut downstairs. He had successfully slept for more that two hours. Actually it seemed he had a successful 5 hours sleep which was the most he had had in at least 5 months. He knew it wasn’t sleep thought, it was a result of sleep deprivation and exhaustion.  
Shaking as he rose from his bed, he ran into the bathroom and switched on the bath taps. It was a bit of a ritual really, every Saturday he would wake up and slowly make himself the most relaxing, peaceful hot bubble bath of the century and spend at least half the morning soaking in the hot water. 

Slowly stripping from his clothes, he chucked them in the washing basket and made his way towards the bath, carefully avoiding the full body length mirror across from him. Sliding into the still running bath he popped the cap of the bubble mix and poured an excessive amount into the stream of water then relaxed back, resting his head against the back of the bath. He felt the burn in his cuts as the hot water enveloped them but he let it happen, relishing in the burn. 

As the time passed he washed his hair and his body then got out and dried himself. Wrapping a towel around his whole body, he made his way back into his bedroom then collapsed on the bed.

Contemplating the meaning of life was something stiles did frequently and now was no exception. Although feeling very uncomfortable wearing just a towel he tucked both hands under his pillow beneath his head. Sighing and shutting his eyes, he let him self slowly drift out of consciousness. 

Screaming himself awake. He curled in on himself. His dad burst through the room with his gun out,seemingly sober for the first time in a while, and once he realised there was no danger he sighed and rolled his eyes.

“Bloody hell stiles” he muttered and he put his gun away. 

“S-sorry” he stumbled over his words as his dad exited the room, slamming the door behind him.   
Once his dad had gone, stiles realised that his towel had fallen to the floor in the middle of the night and he had made his way beneath the covers.

Feeling very uncomfortable with his nakedness, he rose from the bed and made his way over to his dresser. He pulled on a pain of large, black jogging bottoms over a pair of black boxers that now hung off his hipbones and pulled on a black hoodie with sleeves that engulfed his hands. Pulling the hood up, he pulled on some socks and made his way down the stairs once he heard his dads car leave the driveway. 

He ran down the stairs and into the kitchen. Realising he hadn’t eaten in a good few days he decided to make himself a bowl of cereal. His stomach growled out painfully as he shovelled the cereal down his throat, finishing the bowl in a few spoonfuls. 

His stomach soon started growling out in protest from being too full. He hadn’t eaten much recently and when he had it had been in very small portions. Feeing full to the brim he grabbed his keys and made his way to the door. 

~~~~~~~~

He liked the library. Always had. When he was little he’s go and sit in the comfortable beanbag chairs in the child’s corner as his mother would browse the more adulty sections, leaving him in his own world with a picutre book. 

After she died he stopped going. It was too much of a painful reminder. It was only recently when he lost him friends and realised he had too much time on his hands that he realised maybe it would be good for him. A sense of closure. 

So he went and at first he almost couldn’t handle it. He had arrived, entered and within the next five minutes he was in his car, crying and talking to himself. Anyways he returned and had actually found it to be helpful and had continued to return. 

Anyways as he entered the building, he walked to the counter to return some books he had due in then walked to the adult fiction section. 

Spending many minutes browsing, he finally chose a book and made his way to sit on one of the comfy chairs and started reading. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Only 45 minutes later the door cracked open and Lydia swiftly made her way towards the counter. Stiles skunk back into his chair. He also used to be quite friendly with Lydia. Once he got over himself and his obsessive crush on her, and realised he was extremely gay, she actually started paying attention to him, treating him like he was an actual person, or better yet a friend. However that all changed when she got with Jackson. She had immediately started to reject him, not smiling at him down the corridors, not stopping to make small talk, nothing. She had actually witnessed Jackson punch him in the gut once and stood there, watching. When he was done and stiles was on the floor, he watched through hooded eyes and Jackson retreated to Lydia and she looped her arm through his, disappearing with him to someplace else. After that he didn’t try talk to her. 

So he sunk back into his chair and hoped he wouldn’t be seen but as usual his attempts failed as she turned towards him and locked eyes. He immediately turns to His book before she make a move. He sees her state at him out of the corner of his eye for a short time before she huffs out a sign and storms back out the door, slamming it behind her. He huffs to and closes the book, making his way to the counter to check it out and take home with him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Driving home was painful, he got stuck behind every bloody bad driver possible but when he finally pulls into the drive again he sees his dads home. Sighing out with despair, he clambered out of his Jeep and made his way to the door. 

As soon as he opened the door he was thrown will great force to the bottom of the stairs. Dazed and confused, he shrunk back into the wall and opened his eyes. His dad was towering above him, an open bottle of scotch in one hand and his other was clenched into a ball. Staring up at his dad with scared eyes, he prepared for another hit. 

“You did this stiles, YOU make me like this” his dad seethed and he felt a pang in his heart. 

“ she died BECAUSE OF YOU” he bellowed and stiles brought his knees up to his chest to protect himself. 

His dad pounced on him, sending his fist flying out and connecting with the base of stiles’ jaw, sending his head flying to the side and cracking against the wall. He cried out in pain. 

“ stop, please stop” he begged but his dad brought his knee down on his stomach and he hunched over, gagging as he tried to keep his breakfast down. 

His father was relentless, beating and pounding him into the ground until he was just a puddle of blood,tears and pain. 

“Dad stop” he whimpered and his dad hit him harder. He brought his hands up to protect his face and he brought him leg up and kicked out hard, trying his best to defend himself blindly. He realised he had succeeded though when his dad cried out and fell backwards, cupping his knee. 

“You little FUCKING SHIT” and stiles realised he hadn’t succeeded. He had only succeeded in making his dad more pissed off. He dad leapt forward again and landed on top of him. 

Grabbing the now empty bottle of scotch his he had put down when they had begun to fight, his dad smashed it down hard on stiles’ head, sending it into a million fragments that dug their way into stiles head and sent him into unconsciousness. 

 

~~~~~~~~~

Waking up slowly, stiles blinked with heavy eyes as he brought his hands up to wipe away the sleep. Coming into contact with a sticky, partially dried substance, he was instantly more awake as he pulled back his hands to observe the mess. 

Seeing the blood was frightening. Obviously he bled a lot when he cut himself but he was in control of that, he was in control of how much he bled whereas he had not control of this. He had not control over his father and his violence. He had no control over whether he would survive or not. And stiles was damn sure he was going to leave this world by his terms and his terms only, not by anyone else’s. 

Standing on instead legs, stiles watched as the glass from his shoulders fell to the floor beneath him into the pile of blood and alcohol. Sickened by the sight, stiles made his way up the stairs and into his bedroom where he then went on to start the shower. He knew he should have probably done to the hospital but that just all seemed like to much effort and he knew his dad had left, by the silence of the house, so he decided to just take a nice hot shower to rid him of any remaining glass then go to bed for the night. 

After undressing, he stepped into the hot stream of water and watched as small bits of glass made their way from his shoulders down the drain pipe and he knew that he was quite injured by the colour the water was turning. The hot water burned the cuts on his head but he leant back into it further, hoping it would clean them. 

Many people would probably think ‘oh stiles why don’t you just tell someone, call the police, move out your old enough to now’ or some other aweful abbreviation of one of those, but realistically where would he go. He had no one to tell seeing as no one could even stand to be within the vicinity of him and his father WAS THE POLICE. He was the bloody sherif for Christ’s sake. He would stand no chance. Also he didn’t have the option of moving out because he only worked a small part time job at the local bistro, no where near enough of a pay check to afford living expenses. 

Maybe everyone would just be better if if stiles weren’t here. If he just ended it would everyone be happier. Scott wouldn’t have to put up with even looking at him, wouldn’t have to waste his time and breath on a fat,ugly freak like him. His dad wouldn’t have to look at him anymore, wouldn’t have to beat the shit out of him, wouldn’t have to pay for anything for him. 

He would get to be with his mother. Get to see his mother that he had lost so long ago and thought about every day. 

The thought of suicide had always been an appealing one to stiles. He had contemplated it many times and as his life started to become more and more of a shitstorm it had become much more fitting. He hated himself and everyone else seemed to hate him and abuse him so maybe it was some sort of sign. That he should. 

Depression had also played a big part in his life. That had also started with his mothered death but this had grown and spread like some deadly disease that left him on most days unable to get from his bed. Unable to smile. Unable to feel happiness as he was roped into a life of self hatred and self destruction. He knew what he was doing to himself was deadly and wrong. So so wrong.

But he deserved it, that was one thing he knew.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> stiles is pushed one too many times and is sent dangerously over the edge, making a decision that is deadly.  
> TRIGGER WARNING: self harm and suicide attempt. Its a bloody emotional rollercoaster.

stiles sat for hours contemplating the deadly ideas that condemned his thoughts as they flitted between his brain. He knew he deserved the pain and knew that his time was approaching rather rapidly. The sun had begun to set outside; this meant stiles had lived through another agonising, pointless day and that made stiles' stomach churn. He thought of the only thing he knew how to do properly and decided he needed to cut. 

His arms still ached from the other day when he had sat at the beautiful cliff edge and tore up his arm. He didnt care. Infact, that ache made him feel more human. He willed the tears to well to his eyes, to spill over his cheeks and fall over his chin onto the rug beneath him, yet they never came. He stood from the side of his bed and made his way to his bookshelf, pulling away an old book he hadn't picked up to read a day in his life that was something to do with male circumcision? like how the hell did that end up in his room but it was a perfect hiding spot, not only was the book absolutely disgusting, it also had a tiny groove behind it, allowing him to just slip the small silky bag between the shelf and its backboard. 

Walking back over to his bed, he emptied the contents of the bag onto his boring, white sheets (which he'd somehow managed to keep blood and stain free) and looked at the contrast between the white and the shiny metal which was covered in speckles of dry, dark blood. The realisation of just how fucked up he was struck him hard and them tears he had been willing forward earlier decided to make an appearance. Slowly he sat on the bed, wiping the tears as dangerous thoughts made their way into his head. 

No wonder his dad hated him, he was a disgrace. He put shame into the Stilinski name by just being himself and he further shamed his father as sheriff with all the shit he had put his dad through with the authorities as a young, rebellious teen. Not only that, but he knew his father wished it had been him instead of his mother. He wished that also. He knew his father blamed him. Not only had his father made that perfectly clear in many drunken, teary episodes he could also see it in his fathers eyes. whenever he looked at him he could see the pain, the disappointment, the regret. so he took the decision upon himself that he would end that pain he caused his father, would end the pain and annoyance he caused Scott. he would end his annoying, unlovable self he caused anyone he had ever met. He just needed the right time. 

So he sat on his bed and took the biggest blade of them all. He wasn't going to end it right now if that is what you were thinking, but he could feel the right time approaching and the rational side of him found it disgusting that he really didn't mind all that much. 

Placing the blade against the cool skin of this thighs that were clad in loose, rolled up pajama bottoms this time, he gave a strong yet quick flick of the wrist and watched in fascination as thick bubbles of blood appeared from his skin and seeped from the wound, down his partially slanted legs. He repeated the action over and over again, digging deeper and deeper with quicker movements as more blood flowed down his pale skin. He only stopped when he began to feel dizzy. Blood from the earlier cuts had already began to coagulate and harden, leaving him puffing his chest with pride; he knew he was capable of doing one thing correctly.

Shuffling off to the bathroom, he didn't bother to clean the cuts, just give them a quick swill in the shower to get rid of the excess blood then the wrapped a gauze and bandage around both thighs, seeing the blood quickly seep through the bandages and to the surface. Deciding it would do he made his way to his room to suffer another sleepless night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning he made his way to his first lesson the the scruinisingly painful day. He had decided to go to school today as he knew his thoughts would just linger on terrible things if he stayed in bed. Although he had virtually no enery or desire to learn, he had successfully managed to arrive ontime for morning registration for the firdt time in weeks. his tutor didnt mention anything but just gave him a direct look of sympathy. He hated it. As the first bell rang, he had been the first out the door. 

Making his way towards his first lesson, which he was pretty sure was history but he really couldnt be bothered to check, he actually managed to get there without one of the school jocks throwing him to the floor and bashing his scull, which he had learnt to be their favourite thing to do to him. Walking into the class, he immediately noticed Scott and Jacksons appearance and had to force himself not to turn and walk out the door, to not look weaker than he already was. So he walked in trying to act as confident as possible, but it was a futile attempt as his chest deflated in worry and his jaw tensed in fear. Avoiding eye contact, he sank into one of the empty chairs at thr front of the class, as far away from the two as possible and closest to the door incase he needed to bolt. 

Throughout the entire lesson, he tried to concentrate as best he could but he could feel the eyes burning the back of his head, glaring daggers into his back. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He made it to lunch fairly successfully as he had only been barged into one locker by someone he had never seen before. For lunch he decided to go to the school library and made his way around the corner only to be pushed face first into the mud beneath him. A hand made its way to the back of his neck, holding him there and he felt a knee pressing into the small of his back. 

" hey fag, didn't see you yesterday, daddy beat you too hard?" he instantly recognised the voice as Matts. Swallowing and shutting his eyes, he prepared for whatever they were going to do to him. 

"I asked you a question shit-face" Matt seethed and he heard Jackson chuckle in the background. He lay as still as possible, hoping they would be quick. 

"Seems like the fag wants to be beaten" Jackson said as he heard him approach. Stiles whimpered into the mud as his lip quivered in fear. He felt Matt lean in towards his ear.

"What was that Stilinski? Begging for us were you? You really are just a disgusting little fag" Matt breathed down his neck and the next thing he felt was Jacksons army boot come into contact with his side. The air within his lunges was forced out painfully. Hands dug into his neck in a vice-like grip and his air ways were constricted as the rest of Jacksons wrath was taken out upon his body. His frame wracked with sobs as pain blossomed everywhere. After a while he stopped resisting and just lay there, giving up all his fight. 

It hurt like a bitch. It seemed never ending and it only seemed to get worse. s what seemed to be their little conclusion, Jackson leaned down next to Matt and whispered.

"The saddest part about you fag, is that if you were to die no one would miss you, hell Id probably throw a party and everyone would attend" 

When they had disappeared from sight, he stood and spat out the mud in his moth.

Trembling, he made his way toward the parking lot and to his car. So much for a full day at school.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Collasping through the doorway of his house, he shook with sobs as he thought about everything. Why did everyone hate him so much? what did he do to deserve this? The worst part was the fact that he could answer both those questions. He really did have nothing to live for. Infact, he actually had more to die for as he would be with his mother, the only person who had ever shown him love. 

He was brought out of his thinking by the downstairs door slamming shut and his stomach pooled with regret yet again. He did not have the energy to deal with his father right now,especially if he was drunk. 

He didnt have the choice however as his door was slammed open and his dad stumbled through. His words were slurred and mostly unintelligable but the occasional words such as 'freak' and 'disappointment' and 'murderer' slipped through. Stiles was used to it, however the words still stung. 

A fist came into contact with his already bruised face and he yelped. Only hours after his last beating, he was being subjected to a new one. Again, he didn't even bother to fight back. He just sat there and went with it. His dads fists were brutal and his kicks were worse. He felt his conscience fading in and out and his breath shortening until everything went black.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Stiles woke up and it only took seconds for the pain to radiate around his body. He tried to shift his legs that were bent at a very unhealthy angle behind him only to shriek out in pain as they moved. He curled up to himself and cried silently in pain. He fucking hated his life. Hated everything. 

After what seemed like hours on the floor he forced his protesting limbs to push him to his feet.He noticed the sun streaming in through the partially closed blinds. He forced himself to look into the mirror and was sisgusted with what he saw. Tear streaked cheeks with puffy red eyes and black and purple splotches covering the swollen areas.

All thoughts that he had over the entire day compiled into a big heap as he though back to Jackson and Matts cruel words and even crueler actions. They were right. About no one missing him. He knew that and had done for a while now but for them to say it with such certainty and happiness made him shake and heave. He stumbled over to his bookshelf and grabbed the blades. He practically ran to the bathroom and turned on the cold tap of the bath. 

Stripping his clothes off down to his boxers, he held onto the bath and clambered in with one hand still clutching the black silky bag desperately. He had wished for there to be a slither of uncertainty eithin him when this time came but he had come to learn there would be non. The only thing he was feeling was pain and desperation.

Sitting in the freezing water all the air left his lungs and he gasped painfully. The cold burn relaxed his bruised limbs and he fell back into the tub.   
He removed the blades from the bag and grabbed the first one he saw. 

He didn't bother with suicide notes, didn't bother with apologies or last words. He just took the blade and forced it vertically into his forearm, mustering up all his strenght to push the blade as deep as possible. He creid out in pain but powered through it. Tearing up his forearms with pained screams as the cold made his blood pump faster and the blood flowing into the water, turning it a vicious crimson colour. 

When his arms became torn apart and he registered that he was still breathing, he moved to his thighs and did the same until the pain became unbarable and he felt his hearbeat begin to slow. He dropped the blade into the tub.

An over whelming sense of calm engulfed him as he collapsed back into the tub, shutting his eyes s the first genuine smile of a long time twisted at the corners of his mouth until he faded into permanent unconsciousness.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles wakes up and is NOT pleased

Stiles’ head was pulsing, he could feel his heart beat behind his eyes as his temples ached. He squinted his eyes tightly, unaware of anything beyond him as he willed his muscles to move.  
However his body felt like dead weight as he could not even move a finger. His head begin to whir with thoughts on what had happened until it hit him so hard he screamed in his own head. All the thoughts of what he had done were presented to him, how he’d been beaten at school then at home by his father and how he’d tried to kill himself. 

He wondered where he was and how long he’d been out. Considering he was still presumably alive that means someone must have found him in time to rush him to the hospital which lead him to ask who? He was practically always alone in his room and he didn’t want saving, he just wanted it to end. As he wrapped his head around what had happened, his hearing began to clear and he heard that all to stereotypical beeping for a heart monitor. His fingers twitched as he tried so hard to move, to free himself from the restraints of his own body. As he began to panic at the thoughts of being unable to move and stuck within his own body, he heard the door open and what he thought were two sets of footsteps entering his room. 

“Yes his heart rate is not abnormal, all his vitals have since stabalised, we did have to administer a drug induced coma to help prevent further damage and to help his body heal but that shouldn’t last long, a few hours more at the most as he has now been under for a few days” a thick, deep Male voice uttered as their footsteps came closer. 

“Thankyou doctor” a voice he recognised this time, his fathers to be exact and although stiles could not see, he could hear the despair and worry in his voice, whether that was genuine or an act though was still unknown to stiles. Hey maybe he had sobered up once he realised his son had tried to off himself, or maybe he was just pretending so he didn’t get suspicion for the abuse on his body. As he heard the doctor walk out the door, he heard his father sit in a chair besides his bed, however he did not reach for his hand, did not apologise, did not seem distressed. He simply sat there: in silence. 

After what stiles thought to be a few hours, his thoughts had started to quieten down as he had accepted he wasn’t going anywhere until his body decided to wake up and his father was so quiet he genuinely thought he had left. That was until he heard him rise from his chair and walk towards the door. When he reached it he muttered “what the fuck have you done stiles” in the most monotone, empty voice stiles had ever heard and then he was gone. 

————————————————

Stiles must have fallen asleep because he woke up again to the door being shut and the sensation of a sharp pain in his left bicep. He let out a heavy fast and clenched his fist, only just coming to realise his body was now fully conscious. His eyes shot open and the intense lighting of the room burned his retinas, causing him to squint and shoot up in his seat. He could hear the doctor next to him trying to talk to him to calm him doen but it wasn’t working. As he opened his eyes fully he realised he was in a hospital room alone with the nurse and he could feel every limb aching.   
The realisation that he wasn’t dead hit him hard as he became fully aware of his surrounding and he realised that no one was here for him. He let out a desperate cry in anger and despair and began to pry himself from the bed, trying to rip the needles from his skin supplying him with fatty substinance foods. The female doctor tried to hold him back but it only made him more angry as he screamed like a mad man and pulled with all him might. 

The door burst open and a sea of doctors flooded into the room but he refused to give up, pulling against them and screaming to let him go.   
Finally one man approached him, gentler than the rest with a small needle in his palm. He was clearly trying to talk to stiles, trying to reassure him but all stiles could hear was the heart monitor. Beeping slowly and driving him insane. 

The man places a gentle hand on his wrist, careful of all the bandages and used his strength to pull stiles arm straight. Stiles tried to fight back but the man was just a wall of muscle, say stronger than stiles could ever dream of being which fuelled his anger more.He felt another prick in his bicep and within seconds lost all the fight within him, collapsing onto the bed and letting tears flow silently from his eyes; accepting his defeat. 

He blinked up to the ceiling and the same mans face came into his vision, still clearly trying to speak to him. Stiles felt his hand placed carefully on his shoulder and looked into his beautiful, endless green eyes and relished in the touch of another person for the first time in months. The hand on his shoulder combined with the mans beautiful eyes aswell as the sedative was enough to have him wiped out, dreaming about green eyes and a mop of raven black, soft looking hair.

——————————————

Stiles woke feeling more relaxed than he could remember ever have being. Although the constant ache in his body, he felt fairly well rested and his eyes didn’t ache from the constant deprivation. He blinked his eyes open and started at the ceiling, having come to terms with the fact that he was alive and hadn’t succeeded in ending himself. He couldn’t even do that. He was so fucking pathetic. He couldn’t even kill himself properly. No wonder he was such a disappointment. 

He tried rolling onto his side but the needles moved causing too much pain. He carried on thought, desperate to just curl up and pretend non of this had happened. He turned away from the door and curled his knees into his chest and cradling his most injured wrist under his chin. He knew he looked small, dangerously small. 

Height wise stiles was doing fine. Puberty wise he was too. He was an 18 year old male and had all the features of one, except for the 45lbs of weight he was missing. For his height he should be well over 150lbs at a minimum but he weighted a dangerous 105. He wasn’t stupid he knew it was dangerous. That he was playing a deadly game but he just wanted to be skinny. That was all he had asked for but no, people like Jackson felt like giving him a permanent reminder on how fat and disgusting he was. 

Just as his thoughts began to spiral more, he heard the door click open behind him and the tapping of shoes. Too lazy to move, he just sat facing away and tucked his head further into the soft pillow. 

“ hello stiles” a husky voice stated as he heard the man sit in the same seat his father previously had been. Stiles ignored the man, favouring the silence. The man let out a gentle sigh, no frustration or anger behind it though and stiles was glad, he didn’t think he could handle any more anger or disappointment. 

 

“ I know you’re probably really confused and upset right now but I really need to ask you some important questions, if you feel up to it? “ the man said hopefully but they just made stiles more upset and it dawned on him that he would just be sent to eichen house and locked up and a crazy man. The thought scared him. A lot. Stiles physically shivered and curled up on himself further. 

“ stiles honestly it’s okay just calm down please, you have nothing to worry about. How about we just talk, talk about something else hey? “ the man said but stiles didn’t move. 

“My names derek, I’m a doctor here and you may not believe it but I genuinely just want to help you” he could hear the gentle smile in his voice and that confused stiles, how could someone so muscly and manly be so seemingly kind and gentle? And Derek? Stiles loved the name, it was odd but it fit the man so much. 

Stiles turned his head slightly but not completely, showing he was interested in what Derek was saying. 

“So stiles? I’m guessing that’s not your real name? Or if it is it’s very unique” Derek babbled and stiles allowed himself to smile slightly. 

“ my real names polish” stiles muttered so so quietly he could barely hear himself, however Derek somehow managed to catch it and hummed to himself. 

“ polish huh? Got polish ancestors?” Derek asked with what seemed like genuine curiosity. 

“ on my moms side yea” stiles murmured with that same small smile as he began to turn to face derek. 

When he turned, he realised it was the same green eyed man from earlier and his heart fluttered silently but his face gave nothing away. Just because he had turned to face the man didn’t mean he trusted him, it didn’t mean he was going to just do what Derek said or spill his heart and soul to him. He dropped his eyes to the bed frame in front of his face and tucked his head back into the pillow, snuggling into its warmth slightly. 

He let his eyes close gently as he felt Derek’s eyes on him and he just relished in the peace of his mind for a short while. Derek didn’t move or push him into answering questions, he simply just let stiles relax. 

After what seemed like hours but was most likely only about 10 minutes, stiles let his eyes flutter open again to see Derek sat there in the chair, looking at him quizzically. He tried to pull himself into a sitting position but hissed at the throbbing pain within his slashed wrists. 

He got about half way before giving up and pulling the thin blanket from his body, to see his bandaged thighs beneath his hospital gown. He inspected them carefully but when he went to pick at the bandages, a hand pulled his back slowly. He turned his head to look at Derek sharply but the look was gone in an instant as Derek gave him a small smile while rubbing the back of his hand. 

“ it’s best if you leave them, I know I sound like I’m nagging but it’s in your best interests” Derek said and stiles let his brow furrow. Best interest? How the fuck did Derek knoe what was in his best interest. For all he cares stiles could have been rolled in as a corpse and it would just be another day at work. The lonely feeling struck him in the gut again. 

“ where’s my dad” stiles asked emotionlessly. 

Derek’s face dropped slightly.   
“ he came in earlier but only stayed for a short while, he said to tell you he had to get back to the station” Derek sympathised 

Stiles scoffed and rolled his eyes, angry at himself for expecting anything more. 

“ of fucking course” 

“Hey well, how about I go get you a drink and we can talk for a little while?” Derek changes the subject. 

Stiles simply nodded his head. 

“Coffee, tea, soda?”

“ black coffee please, no sugar” just because stiles was in hospital didn’t mean he was going to consume more calories that necessary. 

Derek’s smile faultered slightly, almost as if he rea stiles’ mind, but he left it be and slowly made his was to the door, giving stiles a final smile before he left stiles alone in the white, empty room.


	5. Chapter 5

As soon as Derek was out of the room, stiles was observing his surrounding, the way there were a bunch of chairs stacked in the corner and the way the door made a strange clicking sound when it shut. 

He stared down to his elbow and hand, where a needle was placed and looked at the drip bags. Realistically he knew that they would most likely just be nutrition for his body, but the dark side of his mind saw the bag as full of fat, fat that was being pumped into his body and would make him gain weight. He started to panic, worried about how much weight he had put on in judt the few days he was in a coms because he was sure they had been pumping him with fluids since he arrived. His heard rate spiked at the thought of being even fatter, at how he must look. He suspected he looked like a fat pile of disgusting mess. His heard rate was picking up, and the heart monitor was beating quicker and quicker causing him to panic more. Just when he thought he was on the brink of a panic attack and he felt his throat start to constrict, Derek burst back through the door holding two cups with a worried expression painted over his face. 

He quickly deposited the cups onto the bedside table and ran to stiles’ side. Stiles could see his mouth moving but could not hear his words. Derek soon realised that talking wasn’t working, and he quickly decided that placing one hand on his bicep and the other on his neck seemed like the best idea. When Derek’s hand made a connection with stiles’ neck, his first instinct was to flinch away from the touch and he tried to move his head, so unaccustomed to the touch of another person, especially on one of the most sensitive parts of his body. 

But Derek’s hand remained, he gripped stiles bicep and gently squeezed his neck until stiles began to welcome the warmth, it was such an amazing contrast to how cold he always felt.   
He leaned into Derek’s hand as he started to refocus and he shivered when Derek squeezes his neck harder than the times before. It grounded him. 

When Derek realised he was starting to calm down, he slowly removed his hands and stiles sank back into the covers of the bed, half embarrassed and half drained of energy. Derek moved back, grabbing stiles’ drink and passing it to him. He didn’t ask questions. Stiles appreciate it. Stiles sipped slowly on the coffee, moaning slightly at the warmth that blossomed within his body. He closed his eyes and basked in the temporary comfort and heat he got from the simple drink, and the bitterness of it excited his tastebuds in a way that didn’t happen much anymore. 

After slowly sipping on half of his coffee, he opened his eyes to find Derek enjoying his own what he presumed to be latte. Stiles squinted at Derek, taking in his features properly for the first time. The man had bushy yet fashionable dark eyebrows that creased at every word he said, he had sharp cheekbones littered with a thin layer of sexy stubble. He had a sharp, pointed nose that led to beautiful Forest green eyes and a mop of raven black hair that swooped over his forehead and looked so soft and stiles desperately just wanted to reach out and touch the luscious locks, twirling the soft strands between his finger. 

Stiles realised he was staring and bashfully blinked down to the ever so interesting pillow besides his head. Luckily Derek hasn’t noticed stiles’ staring, or if he had he hadn’t said anything. Derek finished his coffee in silence and placed the empty mug back on the side table. 

“Stiles, as dreadful as it may seem, we need to talk about how you ended up here in the first place. I have to make a full evaluation that will determine what we do next” Derek spoke abruptly and didn’t sound all too pleased himself.

Stiles began to shut down again. Of course Derek just wanted to get on with it. He had other people to save and treat and stiles was just another patient, one of thousands Derek had already helped and he meant nothing. NOTHING. 

The word reverberated in his mind, echoing and haunting him. It terrified him. The fact that he meant nothing, nothing to his father, nothing to his ‘friends’, nothing to this doctor who was a complete stranger. He WAS nothing.Nothing to nobody. That scared him. Terrified him. He was just so lonely and he craved human interaction. He needed it. 

The change in stiles’ emotions was abrupt and obvious. Derek noticed it. Stiles went from looking relaxed and tired to agitated, saddened and on edge. Derek didn’t know what he had said to upset the boy, or if it were to do with what he had said at all, but he did know he did not like it. The emotionless expression on stiles face scared Derek a little bit, although he had been a fully equipped doctor for over a year now, he had never experienced someone with stiles’ problems. He had never had to deal with someone who inflicted pain upon themselves. If someone came in with a mauled body because of a car crash, Derek could patch them up and send them on their way without a second thought, but stiles, there was something different. He broke Derek’s heart. 

When stiles had first arrived on the stretcher from the back of the ambulance, Derek was immediately there to assess the problem. From the blood Derek thought the victim had been involved in some serious car crash, as usually were the case. However as he ran to the person, he quickly discovered that it was a teenage boy with two bandages wrists and a dead look about him. Instead of wondering what happened Derek immediately jumped into action, pulling the stretcher through the hospital door whilst calling out to his team. 

When they were properly situated, Derek removes the bandages to find tens if not hundreds of cuts, wounds and gashes working their way from the boys wrist to his elbows. Some of them were merely scratches that looked to have been healing whilst the others were deep incisions that would leave very obvious raised scars for life. Derek got to work cleaning the cuts, whilst his team worked to stablise the boy with oxygen and a drip. 

After hours of hard work stitching and bandaging both the boys arms and legs, then assessing the partially healed wounds on his abdomen, the team finally got the boy to a safe point and where able to rest for a while. Derek should have been doing the same, however he couldn’t get the boy out of his mind. 

After getting some fluids and blood back into him the boy had started to look less dead, however his skeletal figure and hollow eyes didn’t do much to support this. Derek has stayed by the boys side, shocked and bewildered at the state of his body.   
Most of the cuts looked self inflicted however his small body was scattered with bruised and lacerations, all which weren’t done by himself.   
This had Derek wondering what the boy had been through, why he was beaten black and blue and most importantly why someone so young and beautiful had tried to end their own life in the most gruesome manner. 

The boys looks hadn’t gone unnoticed to Derek. The soft brown hair and porcelain skin dotted with moles were obvious to Derek as well as the plump, full lips as well as the wide whisky eyes. However this was not the time for Derek to be thinking about the stunning looks of one of his patients because one, he was a patient and two, the boy was in critical condition and needed help, a lot of help. 

Derek has been forced to run to help another patient once stiles was comatose, however in the days to come he could not get the boy out of his head. 

———————————

“Stiles, I really don’t want to upset you and I promise you I’m going to be here for you, but for your own sake I need you to explain what’s happened and how you ended up here because it is crucial for us to help you the best way possible”   
Derek spoke soothingly but stiles would not talk.  
After a few moments of silence Derek continued 

“I am on your side here, I promise. But if you refuse to talk we’re going to have to transfer you to a psychiatrist in eichen house” Derek mumbles dejectedly and stiles head snapped to the side. 

“NO! please no don’t send me there, holy fuck please anywhere else. I’m not a fucking crazy person” stiles screeched and Derek was instantly calming him down. 

“Stiles, the last place I want to send you is that hellhole, I swear. But it’s my order to do so I’d we can’t make a full evaluation of your mental state, so if you cooperate with me I promise to do my best to help you personally” Derek stated with a small, shy flash of white teeth. 

“Okay” stiles nodded and swallowed out of nervousness. 

“There’s nothing to worry about, and if everything gets too much we can just stop and take a break okay?” Stiles nodded in response again. 

“ okay let’s start then” Derek said whilst flipping through a clipboard of what stiles presumed to be questions. 

“Are the wounds on your arms, legs and abdomen self-inflicted?” Derek asked calmly having already known the answer but he needed a direct answer from stiles. 

“Yes” stiles muttered into his hand. 

“ okay, your doing great, okay to carry on?” Stiles nodded. 

“ how long have you been inflicting wounds upon yourself?” 

Stiles shrugged.   
“ I’m not sure, a few years maybe” he mumbled. 

Derek nodded his head whilst scribbling notes doen onto the clipboard. 

“Did you purposely try to end you life, or was it accidental?” Stiles swallowed thickly. 

“Purposely” he clenched his jaw as nervous butterflies erupted in his stomach. Derek continued to scribble. 

“I noticed other injuries, such as bruises and lacerations, are those self inflicted or done by another personnel?” Derek spoke whilst meeting stiles eye for the first time since he began his questioning. 

Stiles didn’t want to answer. He didn’t know how. 

“Erm” stiles mumbled whilst he began to chew at him knuckles, his way of grounding himself off of the pain without seeming to be. 

Derek instantly pulled his hand away, holding onto the back of his hand for a fraction longer than necessary but not obviously long. Stiles confused eyes met Derek’s painfilled ones. Stiles instantly dropped his hand. 

“Stiles, are the other injuries done by other people?” Derek reiterated and stiles was terror struck. Derek saw his fright immediately. 

“Stiles are you in danger of repeated bodily harm from anyone?” Derek asked more worried this time. 

“I-I-erm” stiles stuttered whilst trying to come up with a good excuse as to the injuries on his body, but coming up with nothing. 

“Stiles.” Derek grumbled our with more force behind his voice this time. 

“ I-I don’t want to talk, I wanna stop” stiles heart rate started to increase as panic swooped over him for what’s eemed the millionth time that night. A look of regret instantly dawned over Derek’s features, as he mumbled a quick sorry and stood to exit the room. 

Tears collected in stiles’ eyes. He was such a disappointment. So pathetic that he couldn’t even answer a few damn questions. He’d already managed to piss Derek off in a matter of minutes.   
He was always such a disappointment.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek’s point of view

After Derek stormed out the room, he instantly headed for the staff room. Stiles’ case was messing with his head. The boy had such an effect on Derek that he physically had to leave to stop himself freaking out. The more he learned about the boy, the more he wanted to help. 

Derek knee that technically his job was done, as a doctor that is, as stiles was alive and on his way to recovery but Derek’s moral compass was pointing him straight in stiles’ direction. He just wanted to help. 

That was the reason Derek had originally become a doctor, he wanted to feel that sense of accomplishment and importance when he saved another persons life, however he did not feel that with stiles, because although he knew stiles was safe for the time being, he knew he was in fact NOT safe at all. 

Even though stiles would not specify where his other injuries came from, Derek knew. He just didn’t know who. Stiles had made an off hand comment about his fathers carelessness towards his earlier in the day, but that was not proof of anything. As far as he knew, stiles was at the end of his last year of high school, a position Derek himself had been in only 4 years prior. However there were massive differences between himself in that position and stiles’. 

When he was in his last months of school, him and his family had been looking for universities where he could go and study to gain his doctor degree; stiles however had been going home beaten,bruised and battered until it became too much and had tried to kill himself. Obviously there could be other factors involved, such as chemical imbalances in the brain causing depression, suicidal thoughts and tendencies, anxiety etc but the abuse had definitely contributed towards stiles’ unhappiness. 

Derek sat down in one of the small, uncomfortable chairs that sat in the corner of the room whilst cradling his coffee to his chest. Now on his break, he allowed his thoughts to run wild. 

Derek was gay, he knew that. He had never had any doubts about it and his family had been very accepting and loving, he had a perfect childhood with loving parents and happy siblings. He came out to them when he was 15 although he had known himself since he first thought that Jack was more beautiful than Rose. 

At first it scared him a little, because all of his friends had recently just started talking about the good looking girls of their class, and who was cute and who was asking who out and he tried to hard to be part of the conversations, fake laughing his way through them and giving a random comment to feel like he belonged, but he knew he didn’t. 

For them first few years he put up with it, to scared to say otherwise but as his friends started growing older and more serious about their attraction to girls, and started to get real girlfriends, he knew he was at his breaking point. 

Then SEX became a thing talked about seriously within his group, and his friend lost his virginity and tried bragging about it and he just broke. Simply broke. 

He poured his heart and soul out to his friends, and some of them took the news fine, being old enough and mature enough to understand that this was a big deal and meant a lot to him. The others however did not realise how much it had been eating Derek up inside, and pushed him around in the beginning a little bit but over all they took the news very well and nothing much changed. 

The next week he told his parents. He had originally planned to tell them that night, but could not bring himself to as he was too worried that they wouldn’t accept it. He was scared shitless. After having a prep talk from his best friend and realising he needed to man up, he told his parents. 

They were sat at the dining table, all 5 of them and just as they finished eating, Derek blurted it out. He kept his eyes downcast, fiddling with his fingers under the table. 

Derek has received a few off hand comments from his friend about how he didn’t ‘look gay’ as he had just started to build a bit of muscle and had the first sprouts of facial hair and had all the girls wooing over his at school. Derek didn’t care if he ‘looked’ gay or not. He just cared about how his parents reacted. 

So as he blurted it out, everyone froze. Derek could feel the tears spring to his eyes and he interpreted the silence as rejection and he began to push his chair back to leave. A hand stopped him however. His head shot up to see his mother staring at him with shocked yet accepting eyes as well as his sisters, his father however just looked confused. 

“Aww baby, that’s fine” his mother muttered whilst soothing his hand with her soft fingers. His sisters nodded their head agreeing with what his mother had said and he shot a hopeful glance towards his father.

Everything was quiet for a moment, and Derek’s fears began climbing up within him again, until his dad coughed to clear his throat. 

“I-erm I, that’s good to hear Derek” his dad stuttered, he has always been emotionally crippled anyways, later Derek found that’s where he got it from. 

Derek breathed out a sigh in deep relief, knowing that it was just his fathers way of saying that it was okay.

“Are you sure dad?” Derek asked hesitantly. 

“Yes, I was just a little shocked and confused is all” his dad smiles sweetly at him and he realised just how amazing his family were. 

Flash forward to to present time, Derek relaxed a little into his chair at the memory. Derek’s memory had been triggered by seeing stiles. Stiles was exactly Derek’s type, not that he would tell anyone that; it was highly unprofessional. 

But stiles had the beautifully lilthe body, creamy pale skin dotted with moles that Derek would love to mark, big brown doe eyes and a beautiful think head of brown soft hair. Absolutely Derek’s type. However, said beautiful skin was plagued with horrid scars, wounds and bruised, and said eyes were engulfed by dark rings that contrasted his skin so terribly and Derek wanted nothing more than to comfort the boy, hold him and tell him that everything would be okay, that he would hold him and that he wouldn’t be alone anymore. Unfortunately, Derek knew he couldn’t do that. Yet. 

Derek knee he had upset stiles by leaving so abruptly, he could almost smell the boys pain as he left, however Derek HAD to leave. He wouldn’t be able to control himself otherwise because the idea of someone hurting stiles, hurt him. 

He shook his legs out and decided he needed to get back to work, and more importantly back to stiles. The boy was scared and alone and Derek had only just started to calm him down before he had stormed out. 

Derek made his way down the corridors, knowing off by heart which room stiles was in. As he reached the door, he paused to take a breath. 

He slowly pushed open the door, looking inside to see a lump under all the blankets. He quietly made his way into the room, sitting in the chair beside stiles’ bed. The boy was facing away from Derek, with his legs curled up to him and his arms pulled to his chest, making him look impossibly small. Derek feared he could break the boy so easily. 

Stiles was asleep, Derek could tell by his heavy yet soft breathing and relaxed heart rate beeping through the heart monitor he was still attached to. 

Derek stayed by stiles’ bedside for at least another 30 minutes before stiles started to mutter to himself. Derek leaned in closer to try and hear the boy, but stiles whisperes quickly turned to shouts and screams. 

Derek was on alert instantly, realising that stiles was having a nightmare as he leaned over the boy and gently took hold of his shoulders, shaking them gently. He shook with more force as stiles became more panicked, until he realised it wouldn’t work and shouted stiles’ name. 

“STILES!” Derek bellowed to awake stiles from the impending nightmares and stiles’ eyes shot open. He looked utterly terrified until his eyes settled on Derek’s and he became aware of where he was and who was holding him. He flinched away from Derek, screwing his eyes up in the process as he muttered out an apology. 

Derek moved to sit back in the chair, releasing a deep breath of relief as he looked to the boy in front of him. 

“I’m the one that ahould be saying sorry stiles” Derek spoke.

“I’m sorry for leaving so abruptly earlier, I just have limited experiences with cases like yours, and earlier I lost my self control as I honeslty just want to help you but I am sincerely sorry” Derek spoke with shame and stiles’ doe eyes met his from the bed. 

“It’s fine” stiles said with no confidence. 

They were interrupted by a knock at the door. Both of them turned to see who it was and noticed the sheriff walk in. 

Derek noticed stiles gulp. 

“Stiles” the sheriff greeted hoarsely.   
Derek stood but did not move to leave the room, too scared as to stiles’ own nervousness to feel comfortable leaving him alone with the man. 

“Doctor, please may I have a moment alone with my son” the sheriff spoke as an instruction not as an querie. Derek locked eyes with stiles, who looked terrified but nodded slowly from his position in the bed behind his father.

Derek hesitated but agreed, turning his back and walking towards the door. However, when reaching the outside of the door, he stayed put. Derek was not better than spying, and if it included stiles’ safety, Derek was tuning in. 

“Son, what the hell is wrong with you?” The sheriff growled. Derek heard it perfectly through the deceptively unsoundproof doors. 

“ I thought that’s what you wanted, you’ve never refrained from wishing me dead before, so I thought I would have finally made you proud” stiles chuckled humourlessly. 

“You FUCKING SPASTIC. Do you know how retarded you are. It’s almost like you were trying to get me caught, you attention seeking little shit. Couldn’t even kill you self properly” the boys father spoke with disgust. 

“I really wish it were you. Your mother DIED because of YOU. If you were never born I would still have my beautiful wife and not some disappointment of a child to look after” 

He could hear stiles sobbing and his heart split in two. 

“ I wish the last time I beat you, I kicked you so hard you passed out and never woke up” the sheriff spat and derek decided he had enough. He slammed the door open and hauled the sheriff out of the room, throwing him to the floor and shutting the door behind him to make sure stiles didn’t see this. 

The sheriff stared up at him, confused. 

“You disgusting human being. Get the fuck out of this building now and never come back. Or I might fucking kill you myself” Derek growled, clenching his fists and baring his teeth. 

The sheriff made his way to his feet. 

“This is not over” he stormed out.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> trigger warning towards the end

After Derek threatened the sheriff, he stormed away to the staff room again. He was lucky today was a fairly unbusy day due to the emotional rollercoaster that had gone on. 

He was simply just to angry to see stiles. That man, that evil man, had abused stiles and shows no remorse for it. No one deserved what had happened to that boy, and Derek knew he was just scratching the surface, knew that more sinister things have happened behind the scenes. 

Stiles was coming to the end of his second night in the hospital and Derek was yet to go home since his arrival. Reasonably, he knew he would have gone home last night but with all the chaos from stiles and other patients he decided to just take a nap in the staff room and get on with it, however the exhaustion and need for a shower were beginning to take a toll on him. The smell of disinfectant and his own BO were beginning to engulf him and he itched to wash his hair. 

He also knew stiles would be expected to move onto solids instead of the IV drip tomorrow which he knew would be a struggle, a huge one. He decided it would be only fair to tell stiles this so he came up with a plan. Seeing as it was now going on 1am he decided to go visit stiles quickly, alert him of the situation and go home for the night. 

As he made his way down the halls he let his thoughts wander, that is until he heard stiles’ muffled crying through the door. He knocked cautiously on it, now having taken off his work scrubs and replaced them with his usual attire. 

The sobbing instantly quietened, which Derek took as an invitation into the room. Derek walked into the room, seeing stiles curled under his sheets facing the wall away from him. “Stiles?” Derek questioned as stiles stiffened. He slowly sniffled and turned to face derek, face red and eyes dead. 

“Hey.” Was all he said. “I’ve just come in to tell you a few things before I go home for the night” derek stated as he sat in the chair he had previously next to stiles’ bed. “The first thing is that I don’t think your father is going to be coming back here any time soon, he has been banned from the hospital and I’m hoping once we have other major problems sorted you will be able to talk to me about what has happened with him in the past-“ “ wait he’s been banned?” Stiles questioned.

As derek nodded his head stiles sagged into his bed with relief.

“Stiles, I don’t know the full extend of what has happened with that man, he’ll i don’t know if i know anything, but what I do know is that I heard how he spoke and acted towards you earlier and it was vile, I gladly would have punched him in the face however I suspect that would have lost me my job” derek spoke with sincerity as stiles let out a small breathless laugh making his eyes squint and his cheeks fill with smile, contrasting their usually hollow and empty look. 

“Thank you so much for getting rid of him, seriously, he..erm” derek instantly cut him off.

“Stiles just let me tell you!you don’t have to tell me a single thing about him now that he is no lager a threat to you, because I can ensure you me and my team here are going to ensure that bastard never sets foot near you again, however as someone who cares I am always open to talk, about anything, whether it be how that man treated you or just the weathers derek stated with a genuine smile.

“Thank you” stiles sighed whilst looking towards his intertwined hands.

“It’s no problem, however there is some bad news as well” derek spoke, silently hoping stiles wouldn’t flip out too much. Stiles was on alert instantly, with his head snapping up and his eyes questioning.

“Seeing as you will have been fully conscious for over 24 hours as of tomorrow morning, you are going to be move onto solid foods” derek tensed, waiting for the explosion. However all he got from stiles was silence.

Derek looked up to stiles, seeing him with watery eyes and clenched fists, however he didn’t say anything.

“Thanks for letting me know” he mumbled, agitation and anger clear in his voice, however derek knew it was not aimed at him.

“Stiles, I don’t even know how to talk about this, because I’ve never been something even remotely similar in my life, however all I can say is that you’ve almost died once now and I promise you that doesn’t need to happen again. You’ve already proved how emotionally and physically strong you are by pulling through this. I also promise you that man will never bother you again. You will be referred to a psychiatrist where you can talk about all these things confidentially, however stiles if you want to make a recovery food is a necessity. It not only helps with your physical health it also helps with your mental health. I’m not trying to lecture you here, because I can imagine how patronising and agitating it must be to have someone tell you what to do when they have never experience it themselves. However, stiles, body dysmorphia is a terrible terrible thing and I know that it makes people see awe full things in the mirror, I also know that just by telling you your to skinny isn’t going to do anything. But please, im going to be here to help you and so is everyone else. Please just think of this as a fresh start, one that you have control of, one where you have power. Please do not let anybody else dictate your life of your life styles just by the way they act or speak to you.”

Stiles looked towards derek, eyes wide and lost for words.

“mirrors... i fucking hate mirrors” stiles uttered with disgust.

“Stiles, I assure you, you have no reason to” derek let slip and stiles eyes shot up to derek once more. Stiles was clearly trying to figure out what that meant, his eyes were flicking as if the dogs in his brain were working together to piece together a meaning for what derek had said.

Derek cleared his throat and stood, not wanting to make stiles even more uncomfortable or overwhelmed.

“Anyway I’m going home for the night, however I promise you I will be back early tomorrow morning and we can talk some more then okay?”

“Yeah that’s fine, again thank you” stiles muttered as he rolled under the sheets again, trying to get comfortable and get to sleep.  
As derek made his way towards the door, he flicked off the lights and released a big sigh once he had closed the door behind him. He had known stiles only two days and already the boy was all he could think about, for so many different reasons.

Derek made his way out into the cold air and pulled his leather jacket around his mid section, trying to block the wind. He approached his car and unlocked it, sliding into the sleek black camero and turning the key.

As he pulled out of the staff drive way, he began on his short trip home, stiles the only thing on his mind.

~~~~~~~~~~

Derek pulled open the loft door and practically crawled up the stairs to his bedroom. He knew he needed to go for a shower but decided that could wait until morning as he shucked off the majority of his clothes and flopped onto the bed, not bothering to get into it due to the radiating heat from his bedroom and the lack of energy. He slowly began to fade, letting sleep take him.

~~~~~~~~~~

Derek stood in front of the house, confused and unaware. As he was about to turn around and leave to go home, he heard a blood curdling scream from the depths of the house. He was immediately on alert, not pausing to assess the dangers he ran into the house, kicking open the front door.

He was met with doors. A narrow corridor of many doors.

Curiousity got the best of him and he cautiously made his way towards the first. He grabbed the door knob of the first one and paused to listen to the inside of the room. He heard what he thought to be a child and an adults voice.

He pushed open the door. He was met with the sight of a young boy sitting in a chair next to a woman. A woman in a hospital bed who looked seriously ill. The young boy was chattering away to who derek presumed to be his mother, who was giving the best response she could but was clearly struggling. This carried on for a few minutes, until the mother’s eyes began to shut gently and she reached out to the little boy who must have only been around 8 years old. She gripped hand onto his hand and struggled to open her eyes. The young boy paused his talking, utterly confused and paused to listen to the woman ho was one trying to speak.

“I love you baby” she whispered and as the boy went to say it back, her eyes closed and hand loosened around his. He shouted to her, however her heart beat began to slow. The young boy began panicking, pressing the panic button next to her bed multiple times however her heart monitor flatlined. The boy broke into a heap on the floor as th sheriff and a group of doctors burst through the room. The sheriff immediately picked up the boy, however the boy stared into the sheriffs eyes and muttered.

“She died.she died and you weren’t here.” And it faded to black.

Derek turned around and slammed the door behind him, heart beating fast and breath shortening.

He looked towards the door opposite. He tried to stop his body from walking towards the door, however he belt as if he were being dragged along, unable to stop it. He reached the door and tried to stop himself, so badly however the door flung open and Derek was met with the sight of the same boy, however older this time, most likely around the age of about 14. He was laying on the floor, covered in mud and a backpack had been tossed aside as two boys, roughly the same age approached him.

They knelt beside him, and as one grabbed him by the collar, raising his first to punch him in the face the other got up close in his face.

“Go on faggot, I dare you to scream” the boy muttered and the boy laying on the floor made no noise as the fist that had been prepared slammed down into his face, crunching against his nose, definitely breaking it. However the boy didn’t make a noise. One of the boys kicked him in the chest, right in the solar plexus, winding the boy and undoubtedly causing mass amounts of pain, however he didn’t make a single noise. He lay there taking it.

As the other boy went to hit him, a teacher emerged from around the corner, and instead of kicking him, the boy leaned in.

“Maybe if you weren’t a fat, ugly, disgusting gay boy then we wouldn’t have to do this to you. You do this to yourself stiles” he cackled into his ear and stood up.

Stiles. He lay curled up on the floor, with silent tears streaming down his face and bruises blossoming across his face as a teacher sprinted towards him.

The door slammed in dereks face and he was instantly pulled to the next as this one slammed open more forcefully, revealing a shirtless 15 year old stiles stood infront of a mirror, eyes full of tears and and a handful of blades.

He stared towards his boney abdomen in disgust, imaging fat and excess weight that really wasn’t there. He grabbed one of the blades that had been clenches in his first, cutting up the inside of his palm. He took it to him abdomen and let a single tear escape his tired eyes as he flicked his wrist, creating a long gash across his rib cage.

Clearly this wasn’t enough, as he did it again and again, cutting and cutting until his stomach was a mess of blood and there was no room left to cut. Only then did he slow his pace. Staring at his reflection once again his face filled with anger.

“You ugly, obese, disgusting freak” he spat to himself in the mirror. This time the door didn’t shut, it got pulled off its hinges as derek was flung to the next door that was already open and waiting.

This looked present time, with stiles sitting in a bathtub with a small silky bad placed in his hand. He took one, the biggest looking one and simply began mutilating his body, tearing that beautiful porcelain skin to pieces. As his cuts became deeper and more angry, his tears became more present, constantly streaming down his face. Derek felt his own tears matching stiles’ and he wanted nothing more than to climb into the room and pull the boy from the tub, however his body was rigid, as if he was being forced into watching this. It was torture. He tried calling out, however his voice was muted.

Stiles became slower and dropped the blade, collapsing into the bathtub and a wicked smile took place over his lips and the blood seeped from his wounds into the bath water.  
Derek collapsed to the floor, unable to cross the door threshold. He couldn’t breathe as he watched stiles bleed out, all alone in an empty house.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait, decided to move my writing onto wattpad because I find it easier to write there however I will still be uploading the chapters to here

Derek shot up from his bed in a state of panic as adrenaline coursed through his veins and fear through his mind. It was a dream, a simple, not real dream that was simply the result of too much worry and too little sleep. 

It had felt so real though. Too real. 

Derek collapsed back into his bed, stuffing his face under his pillow as he let a small, shaky breath escape him. He slowly removed the pillow, feeling calm enough now to look at the alarm clock next to his bed. 

06:15 

He had another hour and 15 minutes until his alarm went off. Instead of heading back into a mother restless sleep, he decided to get up and go for that much needed shower he had been dreaming of since the night before. 

He stripped his clothes in a matter of seconds and made his way to his en suite, turning the shower to piping hot and stepping underneath the jets of water before it had even had the chance to warm up properly. 

The cold was a shock against his skin, but it also forced him awake as his eyes shot open and muscles contracted. 

He hadn't been to the gym in a few days, he would probably go tonight. 

However Derek has other, more important priorities rather than his own obsessive exercise so he decided it could wait until he had the time. He lathered his hair with shampoo and also cane to the conclusion that he was in desperate need of a haircut. 

That could wait also. 

After seemingly minutes in the shower Derek heard his alarm clock go off, meaning it was now 07:30. He had been in the shower for over an hour. It was easily done. 

Derek jumped out the shower, towel dried his hair and made quick work of getting dressed, wanting to go grab himself a coffee before work so he could function for the 12 hour shift he had ahead of him. 

The car journey was quick and as Derek pulled into the hospital car park, he just knew that today was going to be busy, which meant very limited time to spend trying to coax more of an explanation out of stiles. 

He doesn't mean that harshly, the only thing he wants to do is help the boy, however he was getting so frustrated with himself at not being able to understand what had happened to him. 

The dreams gave him a good, very realistic idea but it was only a dream and could be terribly wrong display of what stiles' life was actually like.

Derek also had other patients to deal with, and yes they were also undeniably important, however non of them that he had dealt with were mental health related and most were in an out in a few days or weeks, depending on the severity of their injuries. However stiles were self inflicted, meaning he would do that to himself again without thinking about it and Derek would not be able to live with himself if he simply let stiles be on his way once he was healed then for him to rock up as a corpse next week. 

Derek tried to forget that image as he wanders into the hospital, heading straight for the locker room to collect his scrubs before his long day of work. 

Having changed Derek strode down the corridors, heading to check on stiles for the first time that day, however as he turned the corner he was met with 5 stretchers filled with people, clearly injured and was on it instantly as his name was called out by another doctor. 

Derek ran over to the stretchers, forgetting about stiles momentarily as his instincts kicked in as he ran one of the 5 people directly into the theatre room.

————————

Derek had a long long day. He'd spent hours acting as one of the doctors in the emergency surgery room, stitching, gluing , fixing etc all his patients and had no break. 

He was exhausted. His shift had started at 08:30 and it's was now 16:00. He needed food, water and a sit down. 

It only then dawned on him, he'd promised to visit stiles this morning but he hadn't. He hadn't even had chance to.   
He ran to the break room to grab his lunch then made his way to stiles' room, deciding to spend his lunch there. 

As he approached the door, he heard nothing, a complete and utter silence so he decided to knock gently and walk in.   
Stiles wasn't in his bed and Derek immediately panicked, thinking stiles had left or been taken. 

However when he heard a deep, guttural gargle from the toilet he was on alert. He dropped his lunch and drink into the chair next to stiles' bed and ran to the door of the bathroom, trying to open it only to find it locked. 

He shoulder barged the door as he heard stiles vomit more, shouting stiles' name as he did so. Stiles went quiet. 

Derek stopped trying to force the door open and decided that talking to stiles would make it easier. 

"Stiles?" Derek called as he leaned against the door. However there was no answer.

"Stiles please answer me."

"What Derek?" stiles grumbled in a coarse, deep voice that had been subjected to abuse. 

"Please come out?" Derek stated as a question. 

The room was quiet for a few moments, and just as Derek was about to question stiles again he heard the gentle unlocking of the door, however it didn't open. 

Derek stood hesitantly and latched onto the door handle, scared about what he was about to witness in the bathroom. He was way out of his depths here. Derek pushed the door open slowly, revealing stiles splayed out on the floor with his iv stand next to him. He looked only semi-conscious, with his eyes half lidded and body sagging out of exhaustion. 

Derek made his way over to stiles and bent down, inspecting stiles' self destruction. Stiles had been making himself vomit. 

Derek sighed sadly and debated what to do, not wanting to leave the poor boy on the floor. He leaned down and enveloped the small boy in his arms, securing him against his chest as he lifted the horrifically lightweight boy into the cradle of his arms. 

Stiles passed out against his shoulder. Derek looked down at the boy as you would a lost puppy, stiles was so timid and gentle yet dangerous and destructive. 

Derek made his way over to the bed and gently placed the boy on top of the quilt. He then pulled up another spare blanket over the boy and secured the IV stand in its place. Derek day next to the bed and began eating his lunch, deciding that stiles needed someone to watch him for his own safely. 

——————— 

Just when Derek ate the last mouthful of his sandwich, stiles twitched in his bed. Derek braced expecting stiles to shoot up as a result of a nightmare however stiles simply stirred and turned over in the bed to face Derek as his eyes fluttered open gently. 

Stiles jumped at the sight of Derek staring at him, however once he realised that it was only Derek he melted back into the blanket he was cocooned in. 

"Hey" stiles whispered. 

"Hi stiles, feeling any better?" Derek asked with a sad smile directed at stiles. Stiles froze. 

"D-Derek please don't tell anyone about that. I mean I physically couldn't keep it down anyways and I-" Derek cut stiles off. 

"Stiles I know, even I can understand that we can't expect you to keep foods down, and seeing as it was your first day on solid foods, you did amazingly to even try and eat something, so don't beat yourself up more over it, you should be proud of yourself" Derek spoke surely and honestly.

Stiles' eyebrows furrowed in a confused manner and Derek decided to let it go, knowing it was most likely stiles' self doubt making him question Derek's honesty. After all Derek could see stiles searching his face, his eyes to see if he could find any hint of a lie. That broke Derek's heart more knowing he had been lied to so much. 

"Anyway stiles, I'd like to apologise for saying I'd be in this morning to see you, as I was on my way in we got hit with a large number of casualties" 

" Derek don't even apologise, other people's lives are much much more important than my morning conversations" stiles said with a look of disbelief on his face. 

"Stiles you are important and so are your morning conversations so don't doubt that. Anyways I really really hate to break this but I have to reach a full mental evaluation on you by the end of today, so I'm going to have to ask you more questions." Derek mentioned shooting a sympathetic look in stiles direction as he made his way to the door where the doctors notes were held. 

"So stiles, I'm going to start at the point we left yesterday however I want you to know that the same rules apply, if you want to stop at any point then tell me and we will take a break" Derek said and stiles nodded to him. 

"So, are you in danger of repeated bodily harm from anyone?" Derek asked, swallowing hard. 

"Erm yes? Well I was..." stiles spoke unsurely however Derek knew what he meant. 

"Did someone else cause the non-self inflicted wounds and if so who was it?"

"Yes and it was my father and also just some random people at my school" 

"Do you know the names of the people who did this to you?" Derek asked and he could immediately see stiles starting to shut down again as the panic bubbles up within him. 

"Hey hey stiles it's fine, we can take our time here okay"

————————-  
Something within stiles snapped. Derek has been so kind and supportive since he had arrived here but there was still that knowledge that he was just a patient and nothing more. The day Stiles left this hospital he would probably never see him again. 

The fact that Derek has said the word "we" implying that they were doing this together, that they were a team had my heart clenching. Stiles didn't want to go home, most people say they hate the hospital however this had been one of the most enjoyable experiences of his life. 

"Stiles?" Derek asked unsurely. 

"Sorry... erm yeah it's erm Jackson whittemore and Matt daehler" stiles mentioned with a shaky voice. 

Derek lent in close to stiles and his eyes darkened. 

"Stiles I just want you to know that whoever has done all of this to you, made you suffer like this will be made to suffer themselves and if that isn't through the works of the justice system it will be through me, I want you to know off record that no body should ever have to go trough what you have gone through in the short time you have been alive, and the fact that you have survived this will do nothing but make you stronger" Derek spoke with pride and vengeance and power and everything stiles wanted to hear from the beautiful man. 

Stiles let a single tear escape down his cheek as he kept direct eye contact with Derek, hoping that some of the power and meaningfulness of Derek's words would actually reside within him as fact for once, rather than letting him convince himself that Derek was lying. 

Derek has helped him so much in the three days they had knew eachother, and the feeling stiles had for Derek were already almost unbearable so stiles was scared.

So scared. Of the rejection, the fear but most of all, he was afraid of love.


End file.
